It's The Mileage
by The Madman From The Bronx
Summary: Liz is a tiny-town girl moving to Castle Rock other side of the country in 1960. Gordie, Chris, Teddy, and Vern split down the middle and Liz manages to befriend both groups. NEW SUMMARY CURRENTLY REVISING
1. Chapter 1

Hi, this is my first Stand By Me fan fiction. Hope you like it! (This is not a Mary Sue... I don't think.) This takes place in 1960, 1 year after the Ray Brower incident. This is the prologue to the story. I'll be uploading this along with the first chapter.

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I sighed and watched the ball bounce across the street, eventually stopping on the sidewalk on the other side. There was now a 30-foot distance between me and the ball. I did not want to get up and get it. Not while I was relaxing on the porch. My eyelids drooped slightly and I readjusted my body into a more comfortable position. _What the… NO! I have to get the ball! I groaned and stood, swaying on the spot, and eventually staggered across the street to get the ball. __Summertime is supposed to be full of lazy days! Making it onto the pavement, I tripped over myself while grabbing the ball. Suddenly there was a noise. I stopped._

It came again. A yell.

"Get the hell out! Get out!" A door opened in the house next to me. A boy was thrown out.

I watched, horror-stricken as he moved slightly, then went unconscious. Staring at his lifeless body in horror, I could only think two things:

1. _Run!_

2. _RUN!!!_

I ran away as soon as the command(s) made sense.

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Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

"LIZ!!! GET UP!!!"

I groaned and looked at my watch. 7:45. "Holy shit…" I muttered.

"LIZ! NOW!"

I rolled out of my bed and hit the floor. A dull pain started in my whole body. I scrambled downstairs to see my older sister, Jenny, standing near the kitchen table with her hands on her hips.

"Do the dishes." She ordered mercilessly.

"But I didn't even eat breakfast…"

"Well, you can wash those dishes or kiss my ass."

I stared at her, shocked. Of the two of us, Jenny had always been the more conservative kind. Where I found the need to be blunt, she always landed on some ground for a euphenism. Jenny. Sweet old Jenny. I started laughing and pounded her on the back.

"Congratulations, congratulations! Where did you ever get the nerve to swear like that?"

"New friends." She muttered, completely losing her momentum.

"Well, give them my thanks, old pal!" That must've been the sincerest thing I had said all summer to her. My blood relation was finally getting some personality!

"Yeah, yeah. Get outta here." She mumbled, slapping the back of my head lightly.

I stood on the porch, puzzled. Since when did Jenny act like that? I didn't mind her new way of behavior, but it was so… different than before. She had NEVER sworn at people before. In front of, yes, but at? No. The day she did that to Mom and Dad would probably be her last.

The first thing that occurred to me was that I was glad to know that she was making friends so quickly, no matter how bad they were. I desperately hoped that she wasn't getting fun of already because of her- our- clothes. Strange? Not really. Sisters look out for each other. Our tiny-town almamater was 50 years out of style.

I obeyed my sister (holy shit!) and walked away from the house. _What would I do? Go to the ice cream shop? _I wondered._ Nah, too early for ice cream. Wait a minute, I was supposed to do the dishes! Oh well. I'm not complaining. Jenny probably used me as an experiment of her new language, anyway._ _Wait- maybe I should get to know the town. Yeah, that's what I'll do. I'll be living here for the next 5 years, anyway._

I had moved from a village in upstate New York. A village. People thought this town was small. Need I say more?

In fact, I got lost- numerous times. After a good deal of swearing at and ranking myself out, though, (picked up that listening to the radio yesterday- I would need it to fight the odds of uncoolness in my favor) I got back on track every time.

Not long afterwards I got lost again. No, I don't usually run on short fuses but I was pretty pissed off this time.

"Mother fucker!"

Point proven.

"Who are you?"

_Who am I? I just moved here, idiot! How long is it going to take you to accept that fact… Jesus…_ _Wait. That wasn't my inner voice._

I turned around. A boy was looking at me. He was short and a little on the chubby side. Who could he be?

"I… just moved here. My name's Liz."

"Liz? Like Liz Taylor? That's cool. Sincerely. I'm Vern."

He held out his hand, and I shook it.

I grinned, relieved. No raps about my clothing today. This kid was okay.

"Any chance you could show me around the town?" I asked him politely, trying to skirt around my fatal flaw. But there was something about this guy, something that told me I could trust him not to make fun of me. "Afraid I'm not too savvy with a map." I stage-whispered to him. I would make an excellent actress.

"I guess. Not much to see." Vern looked confused; I think my fancy language had gone completely over his head. (I barely understood it myself, I told myself, to compensate for the… erm… bluntness of my last thought.)

"Yeah, well… I kinda got lost." I said in all seriousness, knowing that the situation was beyond jests.

"Lost? How the hell can you get lost here?" A louder voice said, making me jump and look over my shoulder. A boy with light hair and glasses was walking toward the both of us.

"Oh, hi Teddy. This is my friend, Teddy." Vern said, turning back to me.

"Liz." I said, holding out my hand. He shook it.

"Where did you move from? A city, I don't take it." Teddy said, rather bluntly, eyeing my ankle-length skirt.

First thing on my task list- get these clothes the hell away from me.

"No. I came from a small town in New York. Really small. Actually, you might even call it a village. Modern-day."

"Teddy looked at me doubtfully. "As if anything gets smaller than this. How many people."

"Um, around 200 probably."

"Holy shit!"

I grinned, loving to shock people. "Yeah. This town is N. Y. C. compared to that place."

"Have you ever been to a movie?"

"Yes!" I pretended to be offended. The truth was, we had to go visit my auntie in Rochester to find a drive-in. Thank god we had cars.

I saw another person out of the corner of my eye. Turning my head, I stifled a gasp. It was the boy who had been thrown out of his house.

"Who's he?" I inquired as casually as possible, never taking my eyes off of him.

"Oh, that's just Chris Chambers. Dad's a drinker. Nothing special."

Something gave me the feeling that Vern and Teddy knew this boy. Or had known him-- once.

Silence. I stared at my feet.

"Hey, how 'bout you come with us to the tree house?" Vern said suddenly.

Teddy elbowed him.

"Problem?" I asked.

"I guess it'll be all right."

I grinned. "Okay, fine."

We walked across a couple streets and were soon there. The distance wasn't far at all. I guess this town was smaller than I thought…

I followed the boys up the ladder into the tree house. It was pretty small. Nothing special. That's why I loved tree houses. That's why I loved THIS tree house. Couldn't get lost in it.

In a few minutes, we were playing poker. Teddy had suggested scat, but I had no idea how to play that.

I was laughing, Teddy was swearing, and Vern was just talking. It was as if we had known each other for years. We were having so much fun. I was laughing so hard I was on the floor. Well, I was ALREADY on the floor before…

"Just shut up and deal, bitch."

"Whatever, faggot."

I started laughing again, having never cussed so much as I did today. And probably never as much since.

Two minutes later, I was still laughing. I took deep breaths and willed Teddy not to joke around anymore. Opening my eyes, I noticed a pale orange beam falling from the window to the floor of the tree house. Sunset. How could it have gotten so late? It was breathtakingly beautiful, but…

"I have to go, guys. This has been so much fun."

"Come back tomorrow, alright?" Vern asked. This time, Teddy had no objection.

"Sure! What time?"

"1:00."

"Fair enough. Bye!" I climbed down the ladder. I was still having light giggle fits.

I started walking home. By this time, I wasn't giggling anymore. I was completely serious, on the other end of the scale, so to speak.

"Who the hell are you?"

My head shot up. A group of boys stood in front of me. They must have been around 17 or so. They were tall. And they looked dangerous.

"Why do you need to know?" I said in a slow, steady voice. I had to stand my guard.

"Just answer the question," one of the boys said. He had reddish blond hair, and looked the most intimidating of them all. But even more intimidating than his face was his voice, which was as slow and steady as mine. Only cooler. Much cooler.

That was a dangerous sign.

"Why?"

"Just do it," he said coolly.

Why wouldn't I do it? It was just a name. But something stopped me. I guess it was my stupidity.

"No."

Everybody behind him suddenly went into action. In a split second, 2 of his comrades (or maybe accomplices?) had me in a vise grip. And the thing I hated most about it was that he was just standing there. There was no change in his movement, position, even his expression remained the same.

"Let me go." I said in a low voice.

"Why?" He asked. I knew he was mocking me.

Who was this guy? Who was he to think he ruled the whole fucking town? To just stand there while everyone else around him did his bidding?

Who _was_ he? I wondered again, this time in awe.

"Let me go," I repeated.

Where was my courage coming from? There was nothing I could do, and I knew it. I didn't know any self-defense skills. I couldn't run that fast even if I did escape. Hell, I couldn't even get up to get the ball that one day on the porch.

So what would I do?

I struggled against the 2 boys who were holding me.

Click.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Same voice, same expression, same monotone. Except this time he was moving.

And holding a knife about two feet away from me.

I gulped. Boy was I in deep shit. But I was still too stupid to be scared. Or so I thought.

I guess the main matter was that I was not afraid of him. And now was not the time to question that. But seriously, how long were they going to stand here?

"Let her go."

Teddy! I squirmed around to face the voice. But Cool Boy only held the knife closer to my throat.

"Duchamp." There was pure, unmistakable malice in his voice. _Wow. That must've been French_, I thought. A tiny flip of the switchblade brought me back to reality.

"Let her go."

I struggled harder and watched the blade stay exactly where it was.

"Bad choice."

Warm liquid crept along my arm.

I was bleeding.

Yet I still wasn't scared.

Were these guys going to hold a knife to me all day or actually do something to me?

I guess that wasn't really important right now. Main Goal: Get at least 50 feet away from that knife. But doing that alone was next to impossible. And I doubted that Teddy would be able to do anything to help me. I mean, I could get my head cut off any second now.

Click. The knife was put back. I was shoved away. I landed on the pavement, slightly disoriented, not feeling anything. After all this, I still wasn't afraid. Getting up, all I saw of the mighty Cool Boy was his back. He and the group was walking away from me. Away from us. Teddy was still here.

I turned around to face him.

"Are you all right?" Were the first words out of his mouth. He actually looked grim.

"Yeah. Who was that guy?"

"Ace. He's bad business. You have to watch out for him."

I almost started laughing; but instead, I nodded simply. Somewhere in the back of my head, I couldn't take that statement seriously.

Teddy gallantly walked me home. He took the time to fill me in on the background of the people, the school- everything I needed to know.

"Thanks for walking me home." We had arrived at my house.

"Yeah, don't want the Cobras after 'ya."

He sang "Paladin," as he walked away. That was what he had called the song when he taught it to me a few minutes ago, anyway.

_I'm settling in rather nicely now, aren't I_? I smiled slightly as I walked into the house.

Halfway inside the door I remembered my cut. _Oh shit, what'll I do? I can't have everybody knowing about that_! Great. I took a quick look inside. Nobody in the hall. I ran in and made a quick dash for the stairs, trying to cover my throat as inconspicuously as possible.

To my relief, I made it to my room without anyone seeing me. I whipped off my bloody blouse and rummaged around in my dresser for a new one. The door opened. I stiffened.

"Knock before you come in!" I shouted irritably.

"All right, all right, quit bitchin'…" Jenny slammed the door.

I sighed in relief. I was more concerned about my sister seeing my arm than seeing me shirtless.

Finding a new shirt, I casually draped a towel over my arm and peeked outside my door to see if there were any bathrooms open. (We had two.)

Not three seconds later Jenny was in the hall, laughing at me. I jumped.

"A little strange. Fully dressed with a towel on your arm."

I rolled my eyes and sauntered into the bathroom. Jenny would never lose her out-in-left-fieldness, using one of her popular euphenisms. Five minutes later, I was carefully washing the blood from my neck. After it looked satisfactorily clean, I pondered possible stories as to how it happened. Mom would probably not see how thick it really was.

"Liz! I need to get in there!"

I wrapped the hand towel around my arm again and left the bathroom, leaving it to Jenny and her girlish endeavors.


	3. Chapter 3

I woke up to a brilliant ray of yellow sunshine from the window. I was nearly blinded by the sun. _God, what time is it? It has to be around 10 or 11, _I told myself.

My watch disagreed. 12:55.

_Holy shit, I've got to go!_ I scrambled out of bed and quickly pulled on a blouse and a dull gray skirt. (Really had to solve this clothing problem.) Then, I sprinted out the door.

I arrived, panting, at the tree house. What did my watch say? 1:04. Not bad.

"You're late." Teddy stated, not looking up from the cards he was shuffling.

"Yeah, by 4 minutes," I rolled my eyes. "Where's Vern?"

"Probably looking for his pennies."

"Huh?"

Teddy filled me in on the story. Poor Vern. I honestly didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Me and Teddy started playing poker. Just like yesterday, we both won. I won over half of the games, and Teddy won the ones when I couldn't make a straight poker face.

"I won, Teddy." I said, smirking.

Teddy groaned while I pulled the money toward my side of the table. He had put almost all of his change into that game. The trap door opened and Vern walked up. "You're late, Verno." Teddy said. _Would they start calling me Lizzo? _I wondered.

Vern sat down with us, and Teddy dealt him in the next game. A minute later, I was holding a high hand. An extremely high hand. 4 8s and a 10, which was a wild card. Yup, a natural 4 of a kind. Wild card included, 5 of a kind.

"Liz?"

"Yeah Vern?"

"What's this?" He showed me his cards. I laid mine face-down on the table and took a look. He had 3 10s and a jack and an ace. 4 of a kind at most. Wait… The jack and ace of clubs. They were both clubs. Vern would win the game. "Listen Vern," I whispered. "Go all in."

"What?" He asked loudly. I shhh-ed him.

"Just do it. I fold." I said in my regular voice.

"You… what?" Teddy was incredulous. He looked at Vern suspiciously.

"I go… all in." Vern stuttered.

Teddy looked from me to Vern, then from Vern to me, and back again.

"I fold." Teddy quit the game instantly.

"Looks like you won the pot, Vern. What cards has everybody got?" I said, biting back a smile. Teddy looked extremely disappointed.

Teddy laid down a strait. I laid down my natural-4-of-a-kind-5-of-a-kind- as I proudly called it- grinning slightly.

And Vern laid down his cards.

"What? That doesn't beat Liz's cards…" I pointed out the subtle royal flush to Teddy.

"Holy shit." Was all he had to say. "You won, Vern!"

And Vern just grinned.

"Who says we go out for ice cream?" I suggested. Both Teddy and Vern agreed.

"All right. Let's go."

Soon, we were sitting in the local diner- called the Blue Pointe Diner- and chatting animatedly- after deciding we were still hungry after the ice cream. I ate my fries (Teddy had ordered a burger and Vern a milkshake- none of us were that hungry.) and engaged in conversations about bands and the latest songs.

"So you like the Del Vikings?"

"Yup. Whispering Bells is my favorite song."

"Oh, come on! What about Elvis?"

"Man, he's out. Elvis ain't boss."

Teddy burst into laughter at this.

"What?" I asked irritably. Elvis was overrated. But perhaps this was because Jenny loved him, and I hated all things Jenny loved. Just my stubbornness, I guess.

"Ee-ee-eee-eee!"

Teddy had the strangest laugh. Several people walking into the diner at that moment looked at us strangely. I made faces back at them. It was hilarious.

"A girl who isn't head over heels with Elvis. Never thought I'd see one in my lifetime."

"Yeah, and what are you, 13?" I retorted.

"Well, Chris said I wouldn't live to be 20. Ee-eee-eee!"

Mmmm hmmm.

"So. Do you know Chris?" This mystery was driving me bonkers.

"Yeah. We used to be friends last year. Me and Vern and him and a guy named Gordie. Before… Well anyway, we hardly see each other anymore."

"Before what?"

"It's a long story."

"Well I'm all ears."

"Well, last summer this kid we knew disappeared. 3 days afterward, we heard that someone had found his body…"

Teddy continued his story, occasionally interrupted by Vern, much to his annoyance. He told me of a dead kid named Ray Brower. He told how they decided to go find his body. How Milo Pressman ranked out his dad. How he tried to dodge a train and Chris pulled him off the tracks. The incident with the train on the bridge. And at long last, finding the body. How Ray Brower looked after the train had hit him. When Ace and his friends showed up to take the body. How Ace almost killed Chris. And then Gordie fired the gun…

"But that wasn't the half of it. Gordie, he was the real storyteller. You should ask him to tell it to you sometime."

I glanced out the window. It had taken him until sunset.


	4. Chapter 4

The summer flew by fairly quickly. Days in the tree house, afternoons at the diner, nights alone in my backyard. It was monotonous. Yet I never stopped having fun. Fall was quickly approaching. The air was becoming cooler; the trees were dropping their leaves. School was starting in 3 days. 8th grade. Last year before high school. Jenny was frequently absent from the house, and her absences were becoming more noticeable by the week. Dad was not happy about it.

I was brushing my hair in my room when the door swung roughly open.

"Where's your sister?" Dad fumed.

"Uh… not in my room." I sassed back. Maybe I shouldn't have. But it was quickly becoming a habit. How could I know where she was since she's practically said 10 words to me all summer?

He slammed the door.

"And knock next time!" I shouted after him. My big mouth was gonna get me in trouble.

I sighed and began brushing my hair again.

"Liz, we have looked at the records from your old school. You seem to be a smart girl, therefore, we have you enrolled in the college courses." The guidance counselor rambled on and on about the college courses.

_Just nod and smile, Liz. Nod and smile. Just listen to their bullshit and nod and smile._ I was out of there soon enough anyway, to meet up with Teddy and Vern outside the school building.

"Hey Liz. How did it go?"

"They put me in those bullshit college courses," I griped. "Looks like I'm not gonna see you guys in school that often."

"Aw, that sucks."

"Yeah, I know." I sighed. "Wanna go to the diner? It's our last day before school starts. Whoopee." I said, rolling my eyes sarcastically.

"Well, we can always skip." I suggested.

"Betcha they enforce that in the college courses. They don't care about us."

"Really? Well that just makes my day." I couldn't even skip school with Teddy and Vern? Man, this sucked.

I sighed loudly and slurped my milkshake.

"What is it?"

"Just thinking of how shitty school is going to be," I said moodily. I didn't actually think it was going to be all that bad, well, no worse than last year, but still.

"I hear ya."

"Can we still eat lunch together?"

"Yeah, I think so.

I sighed with relief. Nice to know I wasn't completely isolated from my two best friends.

My alarm clock rang, signaling the first day of torture. Okay, not torture. But sincerely, what would the kids in the college courses be like? I groaned, rising out of bed, and pulled on a long skirt and blouse. _Who knows how strict the dress code'll be? But of course I'll fit right in. _The only new clothes I got were the ones Jenny lent me.

After eating a breakfast of very soggy oatmeal, (tradition for our family) which did absolutely nothing to lighten my mood, I climbed into the front seat of Jenny's car. She wasn't in any better of a mood than I was. Apparently she didn't like having to make an extra stop on the way to the high school.

She dropped me off with a barely audible 'enjoy your first day.' Better than nothing. Would I be that way when I was 16?

I walked into the doors of the school, officially entering my last year of Junior High. I glanced at my schedule. My first class was Science. Oh, how I hated science. It was so complicated.

I walked into the Science classroom and slid into a seat just as the bell rang. Last-minute students piled into the room and the door was shut behind the current. From the moment Mr. Carlson started talking, I knew this class would be okay. Easy. Not nearly as bad as I thought it would be.

Mr. Carlson was mean, strict, unsympathetic, anything but great. That was what all teachers were. At least he was used to slackers; I was going down to his standards. It was still easy, though; they were much less strict here than where I had come from. Probably because here they had more rowdy kids to teach. He assigned us a project due at the end of the week. It was of our own choice, but had to be approved by him. I was thinking and writing ideas down on a piece of paper. Then the bell rang. I got up from my seat slowly, letting other students out of the classroom before I went myself. I headed to my next class.

The first half of the day passed without anything spectacular happening. But all I could think of last period was lunch. Seeing Teddy and Vern. They were my best and only friends. The bell had rung, and I was now heading to the cafeteria. Excitement filled my head. I didn't feel nearly as dead as I did this morning. School would never cease to amaze me.

I walked into the cafeteria, grabbed a tray and some food, and looked for the table that Teddy and Vern would be sitting at, and soon found them. They weren't that hard to miss. I walked over to their table and sat down, laying my tray onto the table.

"Hey Liz, how's the first day?" Vern asked.

"Pretty good. Not as bad as I thought it would be. You?" I inquired, of course referring to both boys.

"Pretty boring. I still can't believe some of the bullshit classes they have here." Teddy, as always, didn't hesitate to give his opinion.

"Vern? What about you?"

"Not bad. I have Teddy in some of my classes."

And the conversation resumed as so. We talked about boring classes, mean teachers, decent classes, and nice teachers. Eventually lunchtime ended, as all good things have to do. I had barely eaten any lunch at all. Talking was more important. My next class was math- something called Algebra- and I headed off to the opposite side of the school.

We had Algebra problems, assigned out of our text book. On the very first day. I only had 2 homework assignments so far- Science and Math. With any luck, I wouldn't have anymore. Soon, I was sitting in English class, listening to my teacher, Mr. White, talk about writing. He wasn't as mean as Mr. Carlson, but he was strict and as stiff as a board. I hated English already. And to make matters worse, we were assigned some big fat juicy composition that was due at the end of next week.

_The theme is summertime. The composition is due next week. _The phrase echoed repeatedly in my mind as I walked to art class. _The theme is summertime. The composition is due next week. Summertime… summertime… summertime… Well, at least it's something that is still fresh on our minds._ Art turned out to be remotely interesting. We were learning still life. Drawing was the one thing that I liked that was under the category 'art.'

The end of the day finally came. Oddly, I remembered the details of the classes before lunch only very vaguely. I walked home, pondering the homework that I had to do. Algebra problems. Science project of choice. And the composition. I hated compositions. I hated English. Okay, putting it bluntly, I hated writing in general.

I sat in my room, thinking. It was 5 PM. I was working on homework, and had decided to start working on the most evil and most time-consuming of all- the composition. _Summertime, summertime, summertime… what the hell was there about summertime that I could write about? Urgh, it's not that I can't think of any topic to write, but how do I write it? Where do I begin?_

I tried to write about meeting Teddy and Vern. Quite frankly, that resulted in a 45 minute stare-down with a blank sheet of paper. I tried to write about waking up late every morning. I tried to write about days in the tree house and afternoons in the diner. Hell, I even tried writing about the breakfast or lack of breakfast I had had over the summer. Zero. Blank. Blank as that piece of damned paper. Damn that paper! It was starting to rub off on me.

I put my head in my hands and every curse word under the sun ran through my mind, though that was hardly helping me. I could not write a summer composition about swear words. _Wait a minute, what about nighttime? Who said it had to be summer __days__? Nights work just as well!_ _Now… where do I get started?_

Soon I was having another stare-down with the blank paper. But this time, I was determined to win. 15 minutes later, my pencil touched the paper, and successfully stayed in motion for 10 minutes.

20.

35.

I soon lost track of the time, I was concentrating so hard. _Dusk, crickets, nights alone in your backyard… Write Liz, Write write write… directly from your mind… go, don't stop until your mind stops._ It was a race between pencil and mind, and I was determined to win. My pencil didn't stop until my mind finished the race; until I had written that final thought.

I laid my pencil down after what seemed hours. Pulling the paper toward me, I began to read.

I could vaguely believe what I was reading.

Had I written this? It was sarcastic, cynical, sardonic, funny… it had definite traces of me in it. But the things that I wrote about that all seemed so hopelessly irrelevant to each other (another one of my fatal annoying flaws) miraculously fit, in some strange, foreign way, forming artful circles on the paper. (Ha! The writers' way of thinking is beginning to rub off on me too!) And I had actually enjoyed writing it.

After a few minutes of shock, I remembered that there was something else I had to do. I glanced at my watch. In panic, I immediately pulled out my Algebra book and started doing the problems.


	5. Chapter 5

The first week of school passed without too much chaos. Part of my Saturday mornings were devoted to meeting Teddy and Vern in the diner. Nobody ever knew what Jenny's plans were. I hadn't worried about her when we had moved and I still don't worry about her now, but she had changed. First she was the mousy girl in long skirts and blouses who was trying too hard swore too much to be cool even for the likes of Ace or his gang, but she had smoothed that out to a low drawl, cigarettes, and slacks. Now she did fit in. She was gone evenings without telling anybody where she was going. And that happened nearly every night now. One day, she returned with a black eye and a bloody nose. Mom went through the roof. Dad exploded. I wondered, but stayed out of the way. I didn't want a part in that.

I was having Algebra homework every night. It honestly wasn't too bad. I turned in my science project last Friday, and got a B on it. I can't complain. Growing potatoes was the closest I could ever get to science.

English was becoming easier to deal with and actually a little more enjoyable. I was a little stressed about turning in that composition. Was it good? Was it bad? More importantly- would I get an A?

Okay, as much as I hated to admit it, I cared about my grades. Just a tad bit. I had that tiny stab of ambition that prodded me 24/7. If I got a 95, could've I gotten a 97? If I failed a test but still got an A, how much higher would my grade be if I had passed that test? If I got 100, could've I gotten 100 on my last assignment?

Yep. Though I would never admit it to anyone, that's me.

Today was Sunday, and I was dealing with boredom and restlessness. I had already tried taking a nap, but when you wake up at noon, it's kind of hard to sleep any more. Mom was outside hanging clothes up on the line, and Dad was in the study, working.

My father was an architect, but he couldn't get a job here yet. (If we didn't come here for a job then why the hell did we?!) Mom was working as a waitress. Dad must have been working on new plans for a new house. But what good would it do? What use would a small town have for an architect? I was still wondering how he had ever had a job in New York. The village. Still, he wasn't happy about not getting a job. And Jenny was not helping matters.

I was desperate for something to do. I glanced at my drawing for art class, which had been improved upon time and again earlier today, to the point that nothing more could be done with it. I opened my Algebra book. I had checked and rechecked my problems 6 times. No use for that. Aggravation was slowly building inside me for the lack of things to do, and now I wanted to throw something. What the fuck did people do on boring Sunday afternoons like this? I was considering tying myself to a pole and letting people shoot bullets at me

_Wait. _I thought to myself.

_Well not that, obviously, but…_

_Train-dodging. Teddy had told me about standing in front of trains and seeing how long you can stand there before jumping out of the way. It had sounded dangerous, but…_

_When I'm desperate, I'm desperate._

_When I'm desperate, I make rash decisions._

_And when I make decisions, they're final._

_(Go for it, Liz!)_

Next thing I knew, I was walking downstairs, out the back door, to the train tracks. I sat at the side of the tracks and waited for a train to come. At first I stared at my feet and waited for the rumbling of the tracks to reach me. Then I got bored and began looking around. Suddenly, I couldn't seem to throw off the feeling of being tiny while staring at the entire universe. There was a lot of empty space out here. Anyone could've gotten lost. I shivered and thought of what must've happened to Ray Brower.

Trains were pretty much the only way to get around back in that tiny village in upstate New York; I heard the all-too-familiar rumbling and knew that there was a train coming if it were fifty miles away. But it wasn't. It was pretty close.

I walked onto the track and waited. The train, whipping around the corner into view was probably 200 feet away. Coming closer… closer…

I closed my eyes and felt the momentum of it. In alarm, I realized that that was how Ray Brower got killed. Chiding myself, I blinked my eyes open, cringing to think of what could've happened in just a few seconds…

The train was a hundred feet away.

Fifty.

I kept my eyes wide open.

When the train was twenty feet from me, I lost my nerve and leapt off the track. Watching silently as my view of the sky was blocked by rust, I felt nothing. The train, as quickly as it had come, whipped around the next corner and it was gone, leaving a slight hum in its place.

Somewhere in the silence, it occurred to me that that was fun. Really fun. Something you couldn't only do once.

And sure enough, I was out there dodging trains for the rest of the day- until the sky darkened to an early dusk.

Walking home that evening, I had seen some of the most beautiful colors streaked across the sky. I would occasionally stop briefly, just to capture the arrangement of colors in my mind forever. Then I would move, jerking out of my reverie, and set off toward my house again. What was usually a 20-minute trip had become a 45-minute trip.

By the time I had gotten home, it was pitch-black, and stars were twinkling in the sky. I hoped Mom and Dad weren't too concerned about where I had been all that time.


	6. Chapter 6

I hummed softly, waiting for the bell to ring and adjourn Algebra class. Mr. Jeffries was seriously making very little sense. The board was covered with formula upon formula in his scribbly handwriting. I squinted at the formulas and tried to understand. I looked at them over and over, trying to work them out. After 10 minutes of a combination of working out problems by hand and looking in my textbook, I understood it. Now I was squinting at the board, trying to see the connection between the ancient Greek my teacher had written and the actual procedure.

"Christopher!"

My head snapped up out of habit. When I realized that it wasn't me, I lowered it again.

"Solve for x- 4x equals 5 times 5 in parentheses to the 4th power plus 15 squared."

Oh man, that was a bitch.

"Oh, um…"

The whole class started snickering. Not in the nice way. Why were they laughing at him? I bet more than half of those kids can't even answer this question!

"Elizabeth?"

I winced. I hated my first name, as well as the question I knew he was about to ask.

"Can you solve it for us?"

I hated being put on the spot. And I wasn't going to be a show-off.

"No." I said evenly

He stared at me. "Sorry?"

"No can do. I can't solve it."

One of the preps from the View giggled with her friends. Then she raised her hand high and waved it around in the air so much it looked like her arm was falling off.

Bitch.

"Mr. Jeffries? The answer is ninety-seven thousand, seven hundred twelve and five tenths." What?! That was way off!

She flashed me a fake smile, then turned back to her friends, giggling again. Super bitch. The bell rang, and I gathered my stuff together and got up.

"Elizabeth? I'd like to see you for a second."

I sighed and walked over to his desk, my stomach doing little belly-flops. Ugh, bad pun. _Even if I __had__ refused to answer a question, he wasn't going to give me a detention for it, was he? Was he?_

"You knew that answer, didn't you?" It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes sir."

"Why didn't you answer it?"

"I guess I just didn't feel much like it."

"I see." He leaned back in his chair. "Feel much like what? Answering the question or showing off?"

"What?" The question confused me.

He sighed. "I've seen how the majority of the school treats Christopher Chambers. I'm not blind."

This was really confusing me. If he was truly bothered about how everyone else treated Chris, why did he call on somebody else to correct his answer and cause him more embarrassment?

Why did he call on me?

"Christopher is having a little trouble in Algebra. I was wondering if you'd be so kind to help him."

I gawked at him. I was getting a low B in this class. That just stood to prove that I would be a lousy teacher.

"Me? Mr. Jeffries, I'm certainly not the smartest kid in this class…"

"But you are one of the smartest," He cut me off. "And you don't seem to… share the views of the majority of this school when it comes to Christopher."

So that question was a… test?

"So you were testing me when you called on me in class today?"

"Yes."

"Okay. I'll help him."

I still had enough time to get to English class. Today was Friday. Friday… Friday… why does that ring a bell? Friday… English. The composition. The 'summertime' theme! I had forgotten all about the composition. Which luckily- in my case- didn't mean that I had forgotten to write it as well. I pulled it out of my folder and handed it to Mr. White, relieved that we didn't have to read ours aloud.

We had to read something by Charles Dickens today and a book report was due next Friday. I didn't like book reports. Well, then again, I used to hate compositions… and I had actually gone from hating compositions to loving them. What did that prove? Writing was now a regular hobby of mine. I even bought a journal last week, and have been writing in it 3 pages a night- something I never would've dreamed of doing. The bell rang again, and nothing really happened worth noting for the rest of the school day.

As I was walking home that day, I crossed the train tracks and grinned as I remembered the fun I had last Sunday. I was hit with a sudden reluctance to leave. I wanted to stay here. I didn't want to go home. Setting my books down on the grass and sliding down next to them, I pondered all that had happened to me this week. I didn't tell Teddy about Sunday. I didn't tell anyone. I guess it is my little secret. I don't understand myself sometimes. That may change when I know all of life's little secrets.

Now, about Chris: Why did people pick on him? What has he ever done to them? Even some of the teachers hate him. The teachers. The adults who are strict but aren't supposed to be biased- at least over students. What had he done to deserve such rotten treatment? Probably nothing. I decided to ask Teddy about this tomorrow when I went to the diner. Now about homework… ah, homework. Dear, DEAR homework. I could only think of some science questions I had to answer out of the textbook, some History homework, and the stupid Charles Dickens book in English class that we had to read. Oh, well. At least the English isn't due next week…

I was awakened by falling raindrops. Groggily, I opened my eyes. A droplet fell onto my nose, making me blink. I looked up. I was still sitting under a tree. One of its branches hung low over my head, water trickling down a leaf and landing onto me.

In about two minutes, the light rain shower turned into a thunderstorm.

_Liz. _I warned to myself.

_You are under a tree._

_Tree is: dangerous place to be during a thunderstorm._

I couldn't tell what time it was. The sky was too dark to read. It could've been 3:45 as well as it could've been 6:30. I walked home, watching my feet most of the way. The sidewalks and streets were deserted. No one else was here to enjoy the rain. When I got to my house, I checked the clock. 4:15. I changed my clothes and ran a dry towel through my hair before my parents could say a word about catching a cold.


	7. Chapter 7

Me, Teddy, and Vern sat in the diner, chatting happily. I somehow couldn't get Chris off my mind.

"I've heard this… that happened today…"

_Why did everybody hate him so much? The students? The teachers, even? _I thought to myself. I was trying to listen. I really was. But I was distracted. I don't listen well when I'm distracted. And who does?

…_Mrs. Simons, especially. I didn't have her for a teacher this year, but what Teddy told me was enough. She was the meanest teacher in the school. She hated almost every student in the school. But Chris, especially. Almost like their paths had crossed before… _Chris Chambers kept running through my mind, and I had made up my mind to ask Teddy and Vern about him today. They had known him, after all.

Now just to wait until they stop talking… Yes. That was my plan. Or at least it was. I was getting a little impatient. I had no idea Mighty Mouse could be a topic of conversation for a full 45 minutes.

"Ummm… Teddy, Vern?"

They didn't hear me.

"Guys," I said, a little louder.

Teddy stopped talking and looked at me. Vern was still talking. I guess he didn't hear me.

"What's the deal with Chris Chambers?" I asked him. "Everybody at this school seems to hate him or something."

Vern stopped talking. Teddy stared.

"What?" I asked, puzzled.

"Well, Chris just came from a bad family, that's all." Teddy explained. "His dad drinks, and his older brother, _Richard_…" He sniggered.

"What? What's so funny?" I asked quickly.

"That's his real name. Richard. Except he will kill anyone who calls him that. He goes by Eyeball. And he's one of the Cobras." Teddy said.

"… Eyeball?" I asked doubtfully. What a horrible nickname.

"Yeah. His eye's all weird and stuff. Sincerely!"

Then the second part of Teddy's sentence hit me.

"Wait a minute! He's a Cobra?"

"Yeah. And Ace's best friend."

Hmmm. So I had to have seen him. Oh well. I'm not interested in Rich… Eyeball. He sure sounded like a bore. We talked about random things for about an hour and fifteen minutes. Then we went up to the tree house for the first time since school started. We played scat (Teddy had finally taught me how to play) and talked randomly as we did in the diner. When Teddy had to leave at 4, Vern and I went our separate ways. I, of course, had no choice except to go home.

As I walked home, I suddenly became aware of something. I was walking toward the train tracks instead of my house. _Well, it must've been out of habit, _I consoled myself. I turned around and headed home again, only now I was standing in front of the diner.

Holy shit! What the hell was wrong with me?

I took a deep breath, turned around in the direction where my house was, and started walking, concentrating on every step I took. To my relief, I ended up at my own house. I decided to stay up in my room all day, because of my little brain gap that afternoon. Also, would it be horribly bad if I went into the bathroom and ate aspirins because I couldn't find the kitchen? Urgh… I sat down on my bed. Forgetting about my confusion momentarily, my mind drifted back to Chris. _So everybody hated him because his Dad was a drunk and his brother hung with Ace? And he didn't do anything __himself__? And I thought my hometown was small-minded._

_But even teachers hated Chris…_ _That must be tough on him._ _And everybody just hates him a little more because he's in the college courses. Jealousy. Pure jealousy._

_Wait._

_He made it into the college courses. Chris was, after all, in my class. Good for him! He's not letting the rest of the town oppress him._

I sighed, laying down on my back, trying hard to quench the overpowering hunger that was filling me. I hadn't eaten anything that day, stupidly skipping breakfast and not eating anything at the diner. After 10 minutes of incredible hunger, I left my room, and to my relief, made it to the kitchen without too much trouble.

Last Saturday was still a puzzlement to me. I had kind of just accepted it and moved on. It wasn't a big deal, right?

Right?

And then it hit me. I had not been spending a lot of time at home. We were a pretty average family, but our relationship was below average. At least now it was. I didn't exactly hate my parents, but I seldom wanted to be around them anymore. Apparently this is also what Jenny felt, only to a much greater degree. Dad would be irritable on account of Jenny's absences. It looked like Jenny had moved onto bigger things. Grander things. She didn't need a family now. And Dad thought he didn't need her. But his real feelings were clear. I knew he was just lying to himself, and so did he. Though he'll never admit it because he's practically disowned Jenny.

I was meeting Chris in the diner tonight to help him with his math problems. Mr. Jeffries told Chris that I would help him at the end of Algebra class earlier today- and Chris didn't look very happy. He didn't look very happy at all. I could probably count on my fingers the amount of words he has ever said to me. I guess he just thought that I'll make fun of him like everybody else. Well, I won't.

Sitting in the Blue Pointe Diner with a math textbook in hand earned a few glances in my direction. I felt a little self-conscious. Funny really, because I didn't feel self conscious at all when I was around Vern and Teddy, no matter how piercing the glances were or how many we received. Chris eventually walked into the diner, and I raised my hand to show him where I was. He came over to my table and sat down without a word.

"Ummm, okay, we can start with variables…" I began, slightly unsettled by the stony silence that was emanating from Chris. I explained values of x to him, and how equations had to be equal on both sides. I soon moved on to other stuff, rambling on and on about coefficients and constants. Suddenly I caught a faint smile on his face. Maybe I was getting through to him.

A little encouraged, I continued.

"So it's like this?" he eventually asked, working out a problem on a scrap sheet of paper.

"Yes."

"So do you watch any TV shows?"

I grinned, much more at ease. "My favorite show is Gunsmoke." I wasn't lying. For some strange reason, I liked Western. Must've been Teddy's and Vern's influence.

"I like Have Gun Will Travel." Chris said.

And suddenly the tension was gone. We talked and talked until it was getting late and we went our separate ways. Now that wasn't so bad. At least he doesn't hate me anymore.


	8. Chapter 8

I stared out the window of English class, almost convinced that my life was doomed. Almost. My English paper apparently hadn't been good enough, having several grammatical mistakes. Bah. I was hardly getting the Algebra class myself now, and I was supposed to be helping Chris with today's lesson after school- in just a few hours. It was making me a nervous wreck.

Several songs were playing inside my head. Bobby Rydell songs. Bobby Rydell was my favorite singer. He had a good voice. Well, I thought so. Jenny and I were always combining our allowances and fighting between Pat Boone and Bobby Rydell records. Personally, I hated Pat Boone. And I think she hated Bobby Rydell because I hated Pat Boone. We used to fight all of the time. Now we don't fight at all. We don't even talk. Odd as it sounds, I miss that. I thought of the times when we actually were a family. But when did I feel like this? I didn't care. I didn't care that Mom and Dad were acting weird and Jenny wasn't being a good sister or daughter. I was always away from home, so it didn't bother me. I didn't care.

Maybe I did.

I guess I did.

It was then I noticed that I wasn't the only one in the room, despite the fact that I had gotten here 5 minutes early. A boy was sitting in a desk, scribbling in his notebook. I think his name was Gordon Lachance. He was a quiet boy. I had never talked to him. He only answered questions when the teacher called on him, but he got the answers right every time. Smart kid. I walked over to talk to him. "Hi," I said.

He looked up at me, slightly surprised. "Hi."

"What are you doing?" I asked, gesturing at his notebook. It was the only thing I could think of to say.

"Ummm, nothing." He closed the notebook.

"My name's Liz." Hah. Like he would care.

He nodded, still looking puzzled. (I was right.) Did he not get the fact that I was just trying to be friendly?

I received a tap on the shoulder and looked behind me. A girl looked at me and pointed at the seat. I nodded at her and slid out of the seat. I looked at Gordon, wanting to talk to him again.

English class had my almost undivided attention today. Of course, I was still stressed over Algebra. Talking to the Lachance guy or wondering about my family hadn't changed that. It was near Fall Break already this year. I wasn't really planning on doing anything or going anywhere. No vacation, no special celebration, no relatives, no nothing. Sleeping in would be good, though. Oh, and no homework for a couple of weeks. The only thing I really didn't like was not being able to go to the train tracks, as it was obviously getting a little chilly for that.

I went straight home when the day ended, ready for some rest, apprehensive at the thought of going straight home. My thoughts in English class rekindled. The chemistry of my family was slowly fizzing and sizzling out. I was indifferent about it; I really didn't think about it. But this afternoon I remembered what fun we had, what good times we had experienced as a family. Not that I'm forgetting the times I had this summer. I was having a great time without them. I just had to let go and move on.

Chris and Gordie and I became friends. I hung out with them almost as frequently as I did with Teddy and Vern. But nothing ever interrupted my Saturdays at the diner.

Nothing.

That's right. Nothing.

_Then how come you are here, sitting in the tree house, talking to Chris and Gordie? And it is a Saturday morning?_

The thought kept nagging me, over my curiosity as to why Chris and Gordie claimed dibs on the tree house, too. It was still an hour than I usually went to the diner. I found myself frequently glancing at my watch, then stopping in aggravation. Since when was I such a worrier? I would be on time, and if late, only by a few minutes. What was the big deal?

"You like Gunsmoke?" Gordie asked me.

"Yeah, it's my favorite TV show. Westerns are always my favorites. I don't get to see it that often, though. Back in New York, nobody in our town owned a TV. I only got to watch when I visited my Aunt Millie in Rochester. I guess that's one up to living near the Big Apple." I said, rolling my eyes.

"I just can't picture a girl liking 'Gunsmoke.' I've never met any that don't like romance. Of course, my mom only watches soap operas…"

I laughed at that. I hated soap operas.

"What about 'Have Gun Will Travel?'"

I shook my head. "Never seen it. I have heard of it, though…" I started singing 'Paladin, paladin, where do you roam…' I had a strange way of proving my points.

"What's your favorite band?"

I thought for a second. "The Del Vikings. But Bobby Rydell's my favorite singer."

Chris chortled. "What about Elvis?"

I shook my head. "Nope."

He and Gordie howled with laughter.

"What?" I asked. Then I remembered what Teddy had said about me not liking Elvis, and it all made sense to me. And I started laughing, too. This was fun. But I still had to leave in about an hour. The more time that passed by, the more often I glanced at my watch, and the more often I glanced at my watch, I got more pissed off and more guilty at the same time. So, when my guilt reached its limit, I left a few minutes early for the diner, and waited for Teddy and Vern to arrive.

"Hi Liz," Vern greeted me.

I grinned at him and said 'Hi,' to him. "Where's Teddy?"

"Oh, he'll be here in a few minutes."

A 'few minutes' came and went. Me and Vern talked about the new hit 'Surfin' Safari.' It looked like this band, the Beach Boys, had a promising start. I had to admit that I liked the song. It wasn't great or anything, but it was short and cute. Yeah, I guess that's how I'd describe it.

Teddy finally walked into the diner, and I glanced at my watch. He was 49 minutes late. I would be irritated on any other occasion, but I was quite content talking about the Beach Boys.

"Hey guys. What's up?" he asked as he sat down.

"Aw, nothing much… only you're almost an hour late!" I accused. "What happened?"

He looked at me strangely. "Late? Daylight Savings Time ended, you moron!"

I stared at him, dumbstruck. "You serious?"

"Really?" Vern was also puzzled.

"No. And Mighty Mouse just defeated Superman."

Vern said "Oh," and nodded in understanding.

"Huh?" I was lost.

He looked at me like I was crazy. "Don't you see? Mighty Mouse CAN'T defeat Superman. Mighty Mouse is a cartoon. Superman is a real guy."

"Yeah, but it would be a good fight, though." Vern interjected.

"Guys, sorry to interrupt, but what does this have to do with Daylight Savings Time?"

Teddy stared at me blankly. "Huh?"

I couldn't help but laugh.


	9. Chapter 9

A few months had passed since anything worth noting happened. My diary lay under my bed, discarded by the passing of time. My birthday was coming up, but I wasn't really all that excited about it. Now that I had turned 13, there was nothing special about turning 14. I had a year or two to wait until birthdays would be exciting again. I was singing and humming a lot more than I usually did. It must've been spring fever. Jenny was missing a lot, but Mom and Dad had kind of accepted it by now. I don't think Dad will ever completely adjust to her absences. I was hanging out with Chris and Gordie almost as frequently as Teddy and Vern.

I jiggled the lock on my locker in a daze, humming along to a song I had heard that morning on the radio. The humming thing was pretty recent- it had started when I came back to school after Spring Break. I told myself that it was just spring fever- but I found myself stopping in front of the sheet music and staring in the window nearly every day after school. It would be a while until I dared go in there. I really didn't have a lot of allowance to spend. And Teddy kind of thought singing was pussy. Not that he ever said that out loud, but he dropped hints here and there. If he caught me inside the music store buying musical scores, I would never hear the end of it. I was secretly glad that we didn't see each other at school all that often- he would never catch me at humming.

As my interest in singing swelled, I found myself wishing pretty badly to be in the choir. But that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. Not until the year ended. But I could sing in high school- Yes! Wait- Teddy would know. Urgh… I guess I would just have to live it down, because I was going to start pursuing my greatest interest. Wait a minute- it was my greatest interest? Humming... Yes- it had to be, didn't it? Well, at least now I know what significance humming had in my life.

Over the last few months, operetta records began filling my cabinet, with the occasional Bobby Rydell LP to go along with them for easy listening. And I didn't really need the sheet music, because I had begun singing with the records to the best of my ability. Oklahoma! was my favorite musical so far, and one of the only ones I had seen. But that was 5 years ago when I had seen the movie. I had liked it even back then, but now I couldn't remember the plot.

I tugged on the lock, but it didn't budge. Sighing, I reset the lock and began rolling in the combination. In the meanwhile, my mind drifted temporarily to Algebra class. For the record, Chris was now excelling and no longer needed my help, which was good, because I was the one struggling to understand now. I had gotten a C on my last test. Maybe I was just having a bad week. Maybe this unit was one part of Algebra that I would just never get. Or maybe it was this humming business. As long as I got a B overall, I wasn't too concerned.

English was becoming easier by the day. I had even begun liking writing story summaries a bit more than I normally did. I wasn't doing a whole bunch of reading, but I was writing every day. One thing I would never accustom to, however, was the actual English language part of the class- prepositional phrases and subordinate clauses and stuff like that. My grammar was pretty good, but I am not able to identify a single clause in any sentence I write. (remind me what a clause is again)

Chris walked up to me as I fiddled with my locker for the second time.

"Hey."

"Hey." My locker snapped open. "Have you seen Mr. Smith around? I think I left my History textbook in his classroom yesterday."

"No." He paused for a moment. "Liz, I um… Mr. Jeffries wanted me to give this to you. He handed me something and quickly turned away. I shrugged. It was just my progress report for Algebra. I flipped nonchalantly to the back page. My eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

A big fat F, written on the page in bright red ink, glared morosely back at me.

I was failing Algebra.

"I didn't mean to look…"

I shook my head. "It's fine, Chris. I'll just… pay better attention."

"Do you need help?"

"No. Thanks, though."

"Are you sure?"

"Yep." I stifled a sigh and slammed my locker shut, making a pact with myself. I would focus. I was going to get my head out of the clouds, out of this ridiculous singing and humming business. There was a real world around me, and I was going to face real-world problems. Humming didn't solve the world's problems.


	10. Chapter 10

One random Tuesday afternoon, I was at the Blue Pointe Diner, killing time. It was too cold now to go to the tracks. But that didn't stop me from wishing I were there. Francis took my order- french fries and a milkshake. Chocolate. Maybe that would lighten my mood.

When the chocolate milkshake gradually disappeared without any change in my morale, I discovered that nothing, if a chocolate milkshake, would lighten my mood and it was no use sticking around here. So, I left a tip for Francis and left, irritated. My options of places to go were rather limited right now. The only place I could think of right now was… my house. Tada! I didn't know why I was always so reluctant to go back. Things were definitely not bad there. Not compared to Chris, anyway. His home life was horrible. His dad drank and beat Chris and his family on a regular basis. Gordie's home life wasn't that great, either. Both of his parents ignored him on a regular basis. One time I went over to his house to study. His dad answered the door. He wasn't that friendly, and as I walked up the stairs, I thought I heard him mutter to his wife, "They just get worse and worse." Gordie's mom just seemed kinda ditsy, but his dad had an actual problem with him. He hated Gordie. He hated the very sight of his younger son. That, in itself, was horrible. Gordie's older brother, Dennis, was killed in a car accident a year ago. It hit the family hard, and they were still suffering. Especially Gordie. He and Chris were much worse off than me. Why was I complaining?

I had reached my house. I yanked the knob open and huffed, just about to drop all my stuff on the sofa in the front room.

Then…

I saw at least 10 faces. All their eyes were immediately on me. I recognized the guy who had jumped me a few months ago. Ace. And then there was Eyeball, and Billy Tessio, and the other guys I had seen but didn't know the names of.

"Hi sis."

Jenny was standing in the kitchen holding a plate of snacks, smirking at me. I really didn't like the expression on her face. So she was disowning me too?

"Hi," I said. Then, without question, I walked upstairs, still carrying all of my stuff. I should've seen this coming from 10 miles away. Who else would've been responsible for Jenny's abrupt change in character? Why else would she be absent from our house so often? I think I did anticipate this, deep down, because now I was not that surprised. All I could do was sigh and think that I was now sharing my house with at least 10 more people.

I was staring at my History homework for so long that I felt a headache coming on. The questions just made less sense as I stared at them longer and longer. Soon, I found myself heading to the bathroom to rummage around in the cabinet and get an aspirin. As luck would have it, Jenny was leaving the bathroom at that very moment. But she just smirked at me as she walked back downstairs. No words, just… that. But, considering the circumstances, what would she possibly have to say to me? Not much. I shrugged involuntarily.

I could hear voices downstairs. They were still there. Oh well. If I was interrupting anything, they would just have to bear with it, because I hadn't eaten anything since noon and they didn't scare me. They really didn't.

As I walked downstairs, I saw a couple making out passionately on the sofa. My insides twisted. I wasn't going to sit there now for a month.

I walked into the kitchen, my eyes fixed firmly on their destination- the refrigerator. I had absolutely no interest in the Cobras' activities.

When I reached the refrigerator, I dug around for ingredients to make myself a sandwich. After sitting down at the kitchen table and taking my time to enjoy the snack, I returned upstairs.

Suddenly somebody's hand grabbed my arm. I whirled around.

One of the Cobras was holding onto my arm. There was something disgusting in that sneer of his.

"Would you consider letting go of me?" I asked evenly.

"No." That dumb grin just widened.

I shrugged, "Okay," and slapped him across the face. He let go of me, more shocked than angry. I smiled sarcastically at him and trampled upstairs. On the way to my room, I heard some rustling around in my parents' bedroom, and moans that spoke for themselves. I was so disgusted that I nearly retched outside the door. I retreated to my room after what seemed like hours.


End file.
